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by abraxos_sniffing_flowers



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - War, F/M, and i want pain, because i am a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abraxos_sniffing_flowers/pseuds/abraxos_sniffing_flowers
Summary: Shade and Farley were well into their third year of marriage when the letter came. The letter telling him that he had to leave his wife and child and go to war. Whether he would come back home or not was to be determined.~Or that one where the author wants to torture the fandom.





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_31 July 1914_

 

They were well into their third year of marriage when the letter came. Farley had come to the front door with Clara resting on her hip giggling and waving. The man at the front door gave Farley the letter and then left, with a short wave back to the auburn haired two year old. Farley scoffed at him before walking back into the kitchen of their little brownstone. Shade was chopping food for tonights stew, humming to himself. Even in the dark world they were living in, he still managed to brighten her life.

 

He smiled at her, kissed her forehead and took Clara from her hip, hugging his daughter close so that Farley could open the letter. She grabbed a stray letter opener and sliced through the envelope, reading the letter through.

 

Shade’s first indication that something was truly wrong was when Farley’s hands shake. He had known her for nearly six years and never once seen her hands do so, not even when they got married. He was next to her in seconds, a hand on the small of her back to steady her. She passed him the letter and he read it over quickly.

 

He was being sent to the trenches.

 

Shade pulled his wife into his chest, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. Farley pulled herself closer, her arms around his waist, still shaking, none of her usual unbreakable strength to be seen. Clara hugged him as well, picking up on the mood of her parents.

 

~

 

_23 February 1915_

 

_My dearest darling Diana,_

 

_I would call you Farley but I realised yesterday that you took my last name. And my heart. Anyway, I’m writing this by the light of another blokes lighter. Cal is his name, nice guy, I should set him up with Mare. I think she would like him._

 

_We’re off to fight at daybreak and I thought I might get this out before it’s time. It’s bloody freezing out here and snowing like crazy. It reminded me of the first time you let me take you for dinner. I bet you’re still as beautiful as you were then, even if I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you? I bet you’re doing just fine and kicking butt just as much as usual. Although you probably miss waking up to my beautiful face every morning (Cal just looked over my shoulder and laughed, bloody tosser)._

 

_How’s Clara? Is she doing alright. I miss her terribly. She’s probably grown so much. Is she still as beautiful as I remember? It’s because she looks like her mum *wink.* I am sorry that I won’t see her grow up as much as I wanted to but I’ll see her grow up after the war. After all, you and her are who I’m fighting for. I still have the photo of you two tucked into my uniform. I like to think it brings me luck._

 

_I’m running out of paper now so I guess it’s time to say see you soon._

 

_I miss you more and more every day._

_I love you,_

_Shade._

 

_~_

 

_14 April 1916_

 

_My dearest darling Diana,_

 

_I believe this will reach you late but I wanted to say happy anniversary. My only regret is that I will not being spending it with you and our daughter, who I hoped you wished happy birthday to for me. I was thinking about our wedding the other night. I realised that that day scared me more than any enemy soldier with a gun ever could. I was so scared you would realise I wasn’t the right man for you and that you would leave me at the alter. You looked so beautiful at the end of the aisle I thought I was going to cry. I knew that no matter what anyone said, I had made the best choice in my life. I maintain that sentiment._

 

_I met up with Bree and Tramy while I was allowed out of the trenches. They’re both still in one piece, although I think Bree got shellshock. He married a girl! Tramy and I were both shocked at the news. We both reckon that he’s a bit crazy, but then again, so was I when I met you (in the best possible way of course.)_

 

_We lost my mate Walsh last week. He stepped on a landmine. My squadron keeps getting refilled with younger and younger soldiers and I get more and more scared that I won’t come home to you and Clara. I’ve taken one of the men under my wing, although he is closer to a boy. His name’s Morrey Cole, he reminds me of Gisa, which is saddening._

 

_I wish I could see you._

_I love you,_

_Shade._

 

_~_

 

_26 December 1917_

 

_My dearest darling Diana,_

 

_It breaks my heart that I wasn’t with you and Clara for Christmas, but thank you for the sweater, chocolate and above all, the photo. You still look as beautiful as the day I left. I fear that I do not. I got hit two weeks back, right in the cheek. I’m still coming back to you, but it will be with a scar. We will match. Maybe I might look just as striking as you do. I pray you love my scars as much I love yours. I also pray that that sweater lasts longer than a few weeks, considering the men all think it’s extremely warm (Cal keeps stealing it.)_

 

_We played a game of football with the Germans yesterday, all of us laying down our weapons. Some good blokes over their too. I wish we all had met differently._

 

_I still miss you and Clara everyday, so much it hurts._

_I love you,_

_Shade._

 

_~_

 

_5 November 1918_

 

_My dearest darling Diana,_

 

_I am overjoyed to say that this may be my last letter before I am home in your arms. A treaty is in the process says my general. I don’t care so long as this war ends soon and I can come home to you. If the war ends within the next couple of days, I will be home for Clara’s birthday. I can’t believe I missed so much. But that will hopefully end soon._

 

_I can’t wait to see you,_

_I love you,_

_Shade._

 

_~_

 

_20 December 1918_

 

Farley stood on the platform of the train station, clutching her daughters hand and waiting. He had said he would be here over the telephone (she would pretend she didn’t burst into tears at the sound of his voice.) She just wanted to see her husband.

 

Her heart began to race when the train arrived, her palms sweaty. The soldiers and nurses poured out of the train into their loved ones arms. She looked over heads, trying to find him. Nowhere.

 

“Daddy,” suddenly Clara was running, letting her mothers hand go. The small almost-six year old weaved around people towards…

 

_Shade._

 

Farley began running as he scooped up Clara, hugging her so close she almost worried he would squish her, his face bright with the smile she had fallen in love with so long ago. She reached them just as he turned to her, the scar he mentioned stretching across his left cheek like a bolt of lightening. He picked her up with the force of how hard she kissed him, her hands instinctually cupping his cheeks as his free hand up pulled her close to him, his fist balling into her coat. Kissing him felt like coming home, felt like waking up. He was home, he was alive, he wasn’t leaving again.

 

“You cut your hair,” was the first thing he could think to say, running his hand over her head, his fingers carding through the strands at the base of her neck. His forehead was pressed into hers, tears in his eyes as he wipes away her own. “I missed you. So, so much. I thought I was going to die from missing you.”

 

“I know. I know. I missed you too,” he pulls her into his chest, kissing her forehead before doing the same to Clara. 

 

“You’ve grown so much, Clara. I can’t call you my little princess anymore,” the little girl burrowed into his neck with a giggle and he kissed her hair again. “I’m not leaving you two again. Ever.”

 

“You’re damn right about that,” Farley pulls away and kisses him again softly before pulling him toward the exit. “Let’s go home.”

 

“You give orders better than my general. And look prettier doing it,” he nudges her as they walk and winks at her. And god damn him, he could still make her blush scarlet after 10 years of him winking at her. Swinging their hands, Farley walks home with her husband. For the first time in years, her house would be bright again, with all the joy he had brought into her life so many years ago. She had missed it. 


End file.
